No Sunday for the Living

There is a grey cast like dust
on the town, on the
countryside with its
sodden fields and drab
trees

which gets stronger as the
light fades - I am
away, away, again
to another place distant
from where I would be
     and the years revolve
and repeat themselves.

The road is bumpy, uncared-
for and the bus shudders
sending jolts through
my bones and skin

all seems dark, withdrawn
and the reason for living
hidden in the dull grey
dust of declining light
as the bus meanders
on unstraight roads
from coast to coast.

Where is the prime of life -
has it been?  did I see it?
has it gone?  did I win
years from the pain of
it, space from the falling?

or am I stuck-still mid-air -
in disbelief at happening
at the heaping of loss and
cares too heavy to support
like coals on my head,
strapped to a whipping-post
oblivious to my rant
of sorrow?

Where did I fall down, will
I ever get the keys of the door,
avoid the knell of time
telling me I am too late
to have been well here? 
that rare gift of love
I had - like a golden 
thing - in my hand -
before they took it back
and I landed hard
on hard ground.

The angels stand, their
swords whirling, flash
the message to me that
there is no going back
and all the colour and
the light of it I must
swallow, and bear
the lack, walk on -

and so I do, into grey
dusty dark-filled days
where the light always
fades and leaves a
dirty cast to town
and field

all my power I wield
daily, every hour, to
stop the fall
over the edge
into the yawning cleft
I see before my
feet as I walk

I cannot talk to them
they are gone and
no words come
from beyond: from that
place of wisdom and assent.

A cleft stick I bear
that taps-out a message
of cares and woe -
Sunday's child has
far to go and no
relish of the journey.

Every day is survival here
by the sweat of my
brow and the goodness
of my hands, what
skill I have, used
to trade myself for
my daily bread

and no sign of why.

One day I will simply
be gone, and all my
love, its fullness,
and all my sorrow
won't live here any more.
And I will not cry. 

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